A Decent Interval (7 page)

But in spite of the circumstances Charles Paris still revelled in the richness of Shakespeare's language and began to feel optimistic that the play would somehow win through. Maybe Jared Root's ‘acting coach' would turn out to be very good at his job and coax a decent performance out of the young man. Or maybe the scene they'd just witnessed had been no more than Jared asserting his power. Having done that, he might knuckle down and work properly with Ned on his interpretation of Hamlet.

Charles was also looking forward to the Gravediggers' scene. After considerable deliberation, he had decided to go for the voice he'd used as the Head Gardener in some dire stage thriller (‘Charles Paris's accent was as creaky as the plot.' –
Blackpool Citizen
), and he was hoping to get the odd laugh during the reading.

But before they reached his moment there was another hiccup in the proceedings. They had just read Act IV Scene iv and were about to read Ophelia's Mad Scene when Katrina Selsey said, ‘Oh, I had a thought about this.'

‘Stop the watch!' said the director. But he didn't sound too testy. Katrina's vowels might need a little ironing-out before she could pass as a member of the Danish court, but the reading so far had shown her to be a good little actress (oops – actor).
StarHunt
's selection process had been vindicated and with a bit of work she could become a moving – and even memorable – Ophelia.

So it was benignly that Ned asked, ‘What is it, Katrina?'

‘Well, it's these songs she sings.'

‘Yes, well, they are traditional ditties of the time. But the original tunes have been lost, so …' he announced, as if presenting her with a rich gift, ‘I'm having new tunes specially composed for them.'

‘But the thing is …' said Katrina.

‘Yes …?'

‘She's, like, round the twist, isn't she?'

‘I'm not sure that I'd put it like that, but she's certainly suffering from some form of mental illness, yes.'

‘So what she sings is, like, gibberish, isn't it?'

‘Well, not exactly.'

‘The words don't mean anything.'

‘No, Katrina, they do have thematic relevance to other ideas in the play and—'

‘But what I'm saying is that she doesn't really know what she's singing …'

‘Perhaps not,' Ned English conceded cautiously.

‘… so she could be singing anything.'

‘We-ell …'

‘So I suggested to Peri – and she thought it was a really great idea – that rather than singing the songs we've got here, I should sing some of the ones from my forthcoming album.'

The rehearsal room lapsed into a stunned silence.

‘I have got a record deal,' Katrina insisted.

‘So have I,' Jared Root riposted waspishly. ‘And my sales are already bigger than yours are ever likely to be. Pre-orders for my new album are going stratospheric.'

‘I've got thousands of followers on Twitter,' said Katrina with defiance.

‘Thousands?' Jared Root echoed witheringly. ‘I've got millions.'

Charles Paris caught the eye of Geraldine Romelle opposite and was rewarded by a mischievous smile. If they'd ever doubted it, they both now knew for certain that rehearsals for Tony Copeland Productions'
Hamlet
were going to be a long, arduous process.

‘F
rances, it's Charles.'

‘Hello, stranger.'

‘And what is that meant to mean?'

‘It's meant to mean it has been a while since you've rung me.'

‘Really? A few weeks, maybe.'

‘Make that months.'

‘Oh.'

‘Four months, nearer five, actually.'

‘Oh.'

‘Anyway, to what do I owe this sudden honour?'

‘Well, I have been rehearsing.'

‘Is that an excuse, Charles?'

‘It's more of a fact.'

‘And a way of telling me that you have actually got some work for once?'

‘I suppose it is that too, yes.'

‘So what is it you're doing?'

Charles gave his wife the edited highlights of
Hamlet
's journey to the Grand Theatre, Marlborough, where the play was due to open in a couple of days' time. It was Monday and he was in the middle of an interminable Technical Rehearsal (universally referred to in the theatre as the ‘Tech'). The interior-of-a-cranium set, which had looked so splendid in the model, was proving difficult to fit into a real theatre – or at least to fit in such a way that all the required lighting effects could be achieved. And the designer, who saw all the problems as being caused by the local Marlborough stage crew not matching up to West End standards, was not helping to achieve an easy working atmosphere. Ned English was tearing his hair out at the Tech's lengthening delays.

‘Well, at least,' said Frances at the end of Charles's narrative, ‘it's going to mean another straight play in the West End, which has to be good news. Not another jukebox musical or cobbled-together evening featuring the winners of some television talent show.'

‘Except it is that in a way.' And Charles told her how Katrina Selsey had come to be playing Ophelia.

‘Ah,' said Frances. ‘I haven't seen it, but I've heard of that show,
StarHunt
. A lot of my pupils seem to be hooked on it. Which I suppose is a good thing because at least it means they get to hear some Shakespeare. But it doesn't sound to me like a good way of casting something like
Hamlet
. I mean, I can see it might work for a musical, but for a straight play …'

‘I'm right with you on that.'

‘So how is your Ophelia?'

‘She's actually not bad, you know, as an actor.'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake, Charles. I never thought I'd hear you referring to an “actress” as an “actor”.'

‘You have to be very careful in my profession now, Frances. It's absolutely crawling with feminists.'

‘Not before time.'

‘Maybe not.'

‘And what about your Hamlet?'

‘What about him?'

‘I read somewhere in the press that he also came up through some television talent show.'

‘Yes, he did.'

‘In fact, I seem to have read quite a lot about him in the press. Him and the Ophelia.'

‘Yes, there has been quite a bit.'

It was true, Charles reflected. He'd been in many productions, quite a few involving big stars, but he'd never witnessed a pre-publicity blitz on the scale that this
Hamlet
was receiving. Not that the press were interested in anything about the play except for the fact that Jared Root and – to a lesser extent – Katrina Selsey were in it. And their coverage tended to mention
StarHunt
and
Top Pop
and Jared's forthcoming album more than they did
Hamlet
. But television talent shows clearly did nurture interest in a demographic which didn't normally go to the theatre. And, although Charles Paris didn't fully understand what Facebook and Twitter were, he gathered there was a lot of activity there too.

Still, he shouldn't complain. The show's high profile had had a stimulating effect at the box office. The four-week tour was virtually sold out, and the advance in the West End was much higher than for the average straight play.

As presaged at the read-through, there had been more conflict between Hamlet and Ophelia as to which of them was getting the most publicity. Jared Root was winning – he had after all been in the public eye for a year longer than Katrina and his first album was already out – but he was clearly anxious about his rival's growing popularity. The envy between the two of them had not made for a relaxed atmosphere during rehearsals.

‘But what I want to know about your Hamlet,' said Frances, ‘is: is he any good?'

There was a long silence. Then Charles said, ‘Pass.'

‘Right.
Hamlet
without the Prince, is it?'

‘I think it'd be rather better if it were
Hamlet
without the Prince.'

‘That bad, huh?'

‘Not great.' Charles thought back to the agonies of the previous four weeks' rehearsal. ‘Maybe his performance will come up when he's playing the show with an audience,' he tried to convince himself. Then, changing the subject, he said, ‘Anyway, I was thinking it might be nice for us to meet up.'

‘Why, Charles?'

‘Well, because we're married, apart from anything else.'

Bad argument, he realized as Frances responded, ‘For some couples that would certainly be a reason for meeting. I'm not sure that it works with us.'

‘How can you say that? We do have a bit of history, don't we?'

‘Most married couples have a bit of history.'

‘Well, then …'

‘But with many of them that history is of moments shared, things done together – not a long sequence of separations, failed rapprochements and further separations.'

‘Is that how you see our marriage, Frances?'

‘Is there another way of seeing it?'

‘Well, you know, I've always thought, yes, we may have had our ups and downs, but still there's—'

‘Don't be fatuous, Charles.'

‘Oh, was I being fatuous?'

‘Yes.'

‘Ah. Well, I thought there was still quite a lot of love there.'

‘Not the kind of love that sustains relationships.'

‘And what kind is that?'

‘I think you're being deliberately naive, Charles. The love I'm talking about involves proximity, for a start. “Being there” – have you heard the expression?'

‘Well, yes, but the nature of an actor's work inevitably involves long periods of absence.'

‘And for how much of the last five months has your work as an actor involved your being away from London?'

‘Um. We've been rehearsing in Marlborough for the last two days.'

‘Really?'

‘And I did do a day's filming at Newlands Corner a few weeks back.'

‘Hm. That seems to leave quite a bit of the last five months unaccounted for.'

‘I can see you could see it that way,' Charles conceded.

‘So who was she?'

‘Who was who?'

‘Come on, Charles. In the past when there've been long silences from you, it's frequently because there's been some woman involved. It's only when she finally sees the light and chucks you that you come crawling back to me.'

‘Now that's not fair, Frances.'

‘Do you want me to give you names?'

‘No, no,' he replied hastily. ‘Anyway, I can assure you there hasn't been anything of that kind for ages. Worse luck.'

He knew he shouldn't have added those last two words, and the broadside he received from his wife made absolutely clear to him why he shouldn't have added them. When she had finally calmed down enough for him to get a word in, he said, ‘I promise there aren't any other women currently on my horizon.'

To be completely truthful, his sentence would have depended a bit on how you defined the word ‘horizon'. Charles Paris was still finding Geraldine Romelle very attractive, and the occasional shared smile or giggle during rehearsals had suggested that she was not completely immune to his charms. But at the end of every day in the Kilburn barracks, she never joined him and some of the others for a drink. She always seemed to have somewhere to go back to. Whether that also meant she had someone to go back to, Charles didn't know. She didn't wear a wedding ring … not that that meant anything. But her availability was something he intended to investigate once the show was up and running in Marlborough. Even if Geraldine Romelle did have someone in London, DCOL also applied to touring. DCOT perhaps it should be. ‘Doesn't Count On Tour.'

Charles became aware of a long silence from the other end of the phone. Then Frances asked, ‘So what are you suggesting?'

‘Well, as I said, I just thought it'd be nice for us to meet.'

‘When? You're now in Marlborough and you've just told me you're going to be out on tour for the next five weeks.'

‘Yes, but then we come into the West End.'

‘So?'

‘Well, the West End is in London.'

‘Thank you, Charles. I'd never have worked that out for myself.'

‘Ha, ha. But I was thinking maybe we could meet up then …?'

‘Hm. Let me think about that for a moment.' She thought about it for a moment. ‘Do you remember last time you suggested we meet up?'

‘No, I can't say I do.'

‘We had a conversation similar to the one we've just had.'

‘Did we?'

‘Yes, very similar. And eventually I agreed to meet you and you said you'd call me the next day with what you called the “fine tuning”, when and where, that kind of thing.'

‘And when was this?'

‘Five months ago.'

Charles Paris didn't actually think the conversation had gone very well.

The Grand Theatre, Marlborough, built in Victorian times, had played host to a huge variety of entertainments over the years. Like most regional theatres it had gone through many cycles of closure and dilapidation, followed by refurbishment and new hope. The finances of such a building were always going to be precarious, but its latest renewal had been courtesy of substantial grants from the local council. (The Arts Council had been approached, but helping a regional theatre had not been part of their mission statement at the time. It was their refusal to provide funding which had brought to the local authorities a wake-up call and a realization that they might be about to lose an important part of Marlborough's heritage. That had spurred them into action.) The improved facilities had led to the Grand becoming a regular staging post on the Tony Copeland Productions touring circuit, so at least its short-term future looked set fair.